


Reasons Not To Crush On Albus Potter

by Wyrdmazer



Series: Translated Works [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst, Coming Out, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gay Scorpius Malfoy, Hogwarts, M/M, Masturbation, Mentions of Het Sex, POV Third Person, Pining, Sad and Sweet, Sexual Fantasy, Sweet, Unrequited Love, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:29:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23295535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyrdmazer/pseuds/Wyrdmazer
Summary: When the cruel reality hurts one who's in love,all he can do to find relief is dream.But how can one dream and not die of longing,when the reality means more and more barbed fencesstraight in his face?Eh, poor boy, how will you handle this...Especially if you cross out any chancesbecause the object of your fantasies has stolen more than just your heart.orScorpius suffers from matters of the heart here.
Relationships: Albus Severus Potter/Original Female Character(s), Scorpius Malfoy & Albus Severus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Series: Translated Works [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/933672
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	Reasons Not To Crush On Albus Potter

There are many things in life over which we have little to no power over. And often these things bother us the most – precisely because of that. They seem the biggest. The heaviest. The most difficult. The most unpleasant in their consequences.  


When Scorpius was younger, he used to spend his days reading adventures of brave wizards and Muggles eagerly, admiring their courage and their resourcefulness, longing for a life that in their cases would perhaps seem to be nothing more than a persistent routine. And when he watched the spells that the older wizards practised with more or less craftsmanship, hope for great performance grew in him along with faith in the infinite power running in his own blood.  


He couldn't wait to one day wield his own magic stick. He imagined what it was like to feel the magic rushing through his veins, to see the tenacious reality bowing under his very will.  


This power was a beautiful promise, tempting and great and solemn.  


But little Scorpius didn't know much about the grim reality of the world full of limitations. He was disappointed to discover that Muggles did not, in fact, lead a life much harder than wizards did.  


_How is it_ , he used to wonder, _that magic has limits_? After all, the wizards in all those books that ignited his imagination possessed the power to overcome even death! How could it... Could these books lie?  


Yes. Especially if they were not textbooks, but merely the records of the elusive, apparently, dreams of their authors.  


The cruel facts cut off the wings of the white, innocent dove, and now... Scorpius had greyed internally from walking with his feet firm on the ground.  


But there was a hole in this greyness, a gap, a way out of despair: the unknown amounts of the unknown. And who knows, maybe… maybe magic can, in fact, do more? Maybe unexplored possibilities are waiting for new minds, too fevered with curiosity to bow to the passed-on lore?  


There was a reason why most teachers looked at Scorpius hesitantly every time he raised his hand in class. To ask another confronting question which the minds of old people – taught but also limited by their great experience – were not ready to answer.  


Scorpius was, to put it mildly, a _difficult_ student.  


In turn, Draco Malfoy, who managed to get used to the awkward questions from his son and his disregard of Draco's structured worldview, chose to send Scorpius the most interesting instruments and books full of answers one could not found anywhere else (Scorpius eagerly awaited each next birthday), and the school teachers – official requests for lenience towards his son.  


When Scorpius first met Albus – in Hogwarts Express, on the great first day of school – his rebellious nature immediately charmed him. Which then only deepened and grew stronger, like Hagrid on extra-doses of Scele-Gro, when Scorpius began to discover more and more curiosity and how well it complimented the young Potter's rebellious personality.  


Albus was not only rebellious. He was also mostly direct (often thus sabotaging his own social status), determined and possessive. And at the same time, he only took care of keeping in touch with his loved ones, defending them fiercely as though his greatest treasures. More than once has Scorpius witnessed bold words bursting out of Albus' mouth towards the tormentors. Albus reminded Scorpius a little bit of a safe. Scorpius had a feeling that he was holding the key to its secrets.  


While Albus – to his heart.  


Scorpius remembered how one morning his mother announced that they were all invited to her cousin's wedding. Which the news ruined his day because he never felt good in the crowds: his peers were too simple-minded whereas the older ones treated him like an average kid, not noticing the multilayered depth of his nine-year-old person. Scorpius, however, will never forget how his heart started beating frantically when he realized that the focus of the wedding was not male and female grooms, but male and male grooms.  


That memorable and inspiring day was the first time in Scorpius' life that he could draw a realistic picture of his future.  


That was it. _That_ was the lacking piece of this puzzle.  


That same evening, Scorpius tormented his parents with countless questions, offended that they had not told him the whole truth about bees and birds.  


Bless the Malfoys for their angelic patience.  


Despite which, however, even having finally realized what had hit him, Scorpius didn't rush to support from his parents when he realized that there was a very big, fat, insignificant chance that he fell in love with his green-eyed friend.  


The place Albus held in Scorpius's life was that of an older brother that the young Malfoy never had. But when for the first time in his life, during his sweet moments alone with his maturing body the images of a very specific person filled his thoughts, taking the shape so familiar, so warm and so Albus-y, Scorpius frowned at them, not quite ready to understand why his mind pictured his friend in these delightful moments just before orgasm.  


And then the understanding came (which took a good few months), and Scorpius experienced a peculiar mix of breakdown and excitement.  


The problem was that the infatuation grew stronger, did not weaken, and Scorpius soon came to terms with the fact that he dreams about his friend, often in very dirty, really obscene scenarios (his father would definitely not be able to keep the Malfoy poker face in place, if he were to know them, Merlin forbid).  


He tried to turn it off somehow. Convince his teenage, oversexualized brain that this is by no means a reasonable behaviour. That it will only bring bitterness, even more bitterness and then wet coal for dessert.  


The result: like trying to break a brick wall with a gobstone.  


Of course, besides Albus, Scorpius also thought about other boys. Boys and their dicks. Stiff and hard in an erection. About their bodies, full of sexual chemistry, waiting for pleasure. For relief.  


He thought about them, touching himself in the comfort of his own bed (most often) and dreaming that someday some boy (Albus) would make him feel this kind of pleasure. Until then...  


"Huuh..." he panted, spilling profusely on his exposed belly, now staring at the cooling fruits of yet another erotic fantasy  


...Until then, he had his faithful, dexterous hand, a collection of dildos, nice surfaces to rub against (such as a mattress, quilt or a pillow), and shiny magazines with men in obscene poses to choose from. Before which Scorpius liked to sit down, stripped naked, straddling a quilt or blanket rolled up into a tight, satisfactorily hard roll that delivered delightful friction to all the most sensitive parts between his legs. How many times had he shot his load onto the picture of a nude male body... Good thing that he knew magic. Not such a good thing that he couldn't use it outside of Hogwarts. Good thing, then, that he was cautious enough to have protected his porn mags with a dirt-repellent spell.  


It wasn't bad.  


But could have been better.  


Because no dildo can ever replace the real penis. But as it was, Scorpius could only fantasize about male arms around his trembling, oversensitive body, strong hands tightened on his slim hips and massive manhood stretching him to the limit. Occasionally, he felt brave and desperate enough that he would be satisfied even with being fucked like a cheap whore, giving his throat to use for a large, hard cock... Or perhaps one day he would find someone who'd let him feel the crazy tightness of a slippery anus when he strokes the prostate of his yet unidentified lover, moving his swollen cock in and out of a writhing male body and watching him dissolve into the overwhelming pleasure under Scorpius' movements...  


He had time for all that. He was very young, after all. Flexible, beautiful, fresh and full of vigour. Barely sexually mature. Like a sweet, juicy grape. Perfect to use.  


Others did make use of it. Less... or more… On the daily basis would his grey-blue eyes see couples displaying their feelings in varying degrees of indecency. Plenty of Times Scorpius overheard boys jacking off in a secluded cabin (admittedly quite accidentally but nevertheless passionately; trying not to tug at his own cock, still damp from the droplets of hot urine, trying to make as little noise as possible), doubly excited when one of them turned out to indulge in sexual activities in the intimate company of the other boy.  


If only it was _him_...  


If only he could forget about Albus, even for a moment, and feel hands on his body that did not belong to him, touch the living warmth that was not his own body...  


He couldn't stop doing it. Couldn't stop fantasizing about sex with his friend. The reality hurt, sharp and obtrusive like pixie's teeth, and where else to find sweet relief if not in the lands of one's own mind? He had mixed feelings about such practices, but the need full of longing prevailed, and Scorpius couldn't resist. It would happen on its own.  


He was a prisoner of his own desire.  


He didn't even notice when he was crossing the border. His body forced him to do it, and he didn't have enough will. He hated it but also loved it, confusing himself with a passion worthy of an emotional masochist.  


But it was just _too_ good. Too delicious.  


So he always gave up the fight. And let himself to get lost in his dreams.  


Soon, uncontrollable thoughts of Albus filled his cock, and there were so many of them and they were so hot that in no time Scorpius' glans would swell, and his cockslit turned into a real fountain of seed; and it could rest on Albus's skin, fertilizing his pores with Scorpius sperm that vibrated like his own breath...  


...if the reality was his fantasies and his fantasies were the reality...  


But they weren't. So his seed would always meet only a cold, dead surface of a wall or the floor. Or his own belly, heaving in trembling breaths.  


And this particular time did not stand out from the grey mass of the normality.  


He sighed sadly, spelling the come off and tucking his spent bits back into his soft pyjamas. He _needed_ to find someone soon. He wanted sex so badly. That pride and satisfaction from the fact that he brought someone to the edge. That he turned someone on. He wanted greedy hands touching his body in his most sensitive places, he wanted darkened eyes devouring him with undisguised desire. He wanted a hard cock rubbing against his skin. He wanted adrenaline and lust; sweat and come when they find relief. He wanted to smell like a horny male who had found his relief in him. In the hot insides of his thirsty body.  


But really, most of all, he wanted Albus.  


It hurt to think about, but every anonymous boy in his dirty imagination had the same unruly black hair and green eyes. And that voice. Exactly the same like his best friend.  


Scorpius preferred to avoid these facts. Although they laughed straight in his face.  


He preferred not to admit who stood behind most of his relentless erections and hot blushes. And behind every single orgasm, behind each desperate moan as he rides a dildo, indulging in blissful oblivion.  


The oblivion throwing him in mindless bliss to such degree that he was able to believe – if only for those short moments – that his dreams had become the reality. Dreams in which he shows Albus what pleasure he can give him, how good he can make him feel, riding that mysterious cock – now real, throbbing with life, hot with blood, pulsing deep in Scorpius' arse, covering his inner walls with come, impregnating him with the highest satisfaction and pride, because he brought his lover to orgasm, and now he's full of that sweet juice, nearing the edge himself, ready to spill his own, ready to give Albus another tangible proof of his pleasure, cover him with his hot come, generously, abundantly like abundant is the feeling that lives in him, pumping fluids into his fertile testicles...  


Oh beautiful scenarios those were, but the poison hid in the beauty; for they made the cruel reality hurt even worse, the reality in which the world was not under his every wish.  


Scorpius knew many attractive boys. They were beautiful, manly, and distant. And taken.  


As was, unfortunately, the one most beautiful boy, for whom Scorpius' young heart was beating longingly, as if wanting to break free from his chest and fall into his arms.  


Scorpius loved Albus' hugs. They were sweet and warm and cordial and shameless. They were perfect.  


But they smelled of sadness, because Scorpius always inhaled the smell in his imagination, losing the remnants of reason, longing helplessly to a reality that seemed impossible.  


Dreaming that Albus's lips – the same lips that dressed Scorpius' name in such beautiful notes – would never again be taken by a female body.  


And yet, that was the reality he lived in. And it hurt. Stung. Left every smile bruised and pained. Whenever he saw a female hand in Albus' hand and those green eyes glowing cheerfully for a girl.  


He used to believe that he was the only one in the universe who gets this treasure. That smile, that look. That only the closest friends share such warmth.  


When he first learned that someone else was sharing his place – that they had taken a higher one than he ever could – the world clouded for a few days and flooded with rain.  


Now – a few months later – occasionally a few tears will flow down, wiped away hastily.  


It wasn't bad.  


Yet.  


Scorpius might be barely sixteen, but he knew that no one would ever be able to cure him of unhappy love.  


Certainly not.

* * *

How peculiar is the feeling you get when your two homes – one more real than the other – happen to be in one place.  


Albus in the Malfoy Mannor was a charmingly contradictory picture in which correctness stumbled over a mismatch. Having your ...home... in this overwhelmingly large location full of uncoverable coolness put Scorpius in an unusual mood. (Adequately so, looking at the out-of-ordinary situation.)  


A really delicious gift the fate gave Scorpius in this year's Easter egg. It wasn't made of chocolate, but Albus is a much sweeter sweetness.  


Especially in moments like this.  


"How did Father let you into the kitchen? I don't understand your charm, Albus Severus." He smiled at the look of dissatisfaction on his friend's face.  


His hands were full of coconut muffins.  


"A real imposter never reveals his secrets," he said conspiratorially, giving Scorpius his owl eyes.  


Scorpius had a shameful weakness for these eyes. They were full of energy, like green suns. If they took the form of candy, he would suck and lick them with pleasure... probably accompanied by a little uncomfortable feeling. And a massive erection.  


_Brr, get a grip, don't think about it,_ not now.  


"And look how your house-elves already trust me! They entrust to me dessert _for Master Scorpius, take it, take it, Master Scorpius will have a smile on his face when he sees it_. So, Scor? Where's that smile?" He raised his eyebrows, at which _Master Scorpius_ kindly released his graceful gesture of joy. "Beautiful," Albus announced, beaming with pride as if it was his work (partly it was, indeed). "Come on, take half of it and we'll sit down somewhere; and we will try to feed them to the peacocks. Do you think they will eat coconut muffins?"  


"I _know_ they won't," he eagerly reloaded half of the muffins onto his hand, "even if they wanted to," and placed one in his mouth, "because I'll eat all of 'em."  


It might be just madness of his brain, but Scorpius could have sworn that one of his favourite desserts tasted about twenty per cent better than usual this time. Albus would make an aphrodisiac even out of a dead Niffler.  


_...Or maybe not..._ he thought a few minutes later, stuffing his mouth full of coconut muffins with Albus and trying not to succumb to the mysterious fascination that every now and then gained upper hand over disgust, and not watch one of the milky-white peacocks pick at a pair of copulating earthworms.  


"H!" Scorpius flinched suddenly when Albus' hand made an alarming move toward the group of white birds. "Al, what are you doing, you can't feed them–"  


But no lonely crumb of whiteness landed anywhere on the ground nearby.  


Scorpius let out a breath of relief.  


"Psh, once in a lifetime would not hurt them."  


Intending to scold Albus despite his right, Scorpius turned to him, holding his hand as Albus did it again.  


Scorpius was convinced that his friend was only teasing him, but the prospect of larger amounts of innocent physical contact was too much of a temptation to let the opportunity pass.  


"Give me that muffin– give it to me–" He lost his breath when he fell into the trap and let himself be pulled, landing lopsidedly in Albus' lap.  


"Hold on; don't move…" So Scorpius let himself rest in this new location without making a move. And place something unidentified on his head. "There. A real king of sweets." Albus chuckled, which Scorpius decided to copy, for it would provide a legitimate explanation for the sudden bloom of pink on his cheeks.  


He reached for his 'crown', confirmed the suspicion that it was a muffin, and took a bite.  


"Hey, your Highness, you do know that eating in this position is unhealthy? I'll leave crumbs all over you."  


"And then you will clean everything off me," Scorpius replied imperiously, feeling like in paradise. Green grass, coconut muffins and his favourite person in one place? Sweet life...  


"No. I will give you to the peacocks; they will pick the mess off you nicely."  


Inspired by the threat, Scorpius seriously wondered if peacocks would really like to pick the crumbs off him.  


But the not very pleasant chills, that these musings evoked, turned into pleasant shivers at the sound of another muffin heading towards its destiny in Albus's mouth. And barely a momentary drizzle of embarrassment was brought onto Scorpius by the realisation that he would allow Albus to crumb all over him with anything and whenever.  


This is only one of the large collection of his shameful secrets that no one has the right to ever know. If it happened, Scorpius would burn in shame.  


On the other hand, maybe it wouldn't be that bad. He always wanted to find out what it's like to be an inorganic substance. You don't feel anything whatsoever.  


Has its pros.  


Especially when a huge portion from the daily dose of Scorpius' feelings is a severe longing. And brazen sparks of excitement, almost every time Albus' scent invaded into his nostrils.  


Now that his friend would live in his house (estate, if you care about details), technically alone with him under one roof (and his dad, if you still care about details), Scorpius was doomed to suffer the coming days with an emotional Lethifold in his ribs. Al was so loving and tender and sweet and charming and...  


And Scorpius was falling for him more and more. He fell into the arms of his friend, sinking helplessly into his dreams, so frustratingly elusive but so _real_ , alive, loud... trying not to give up to them, not to fall asleep, but soak up every single moment they had left before they'll have to come back to the medieval castle full of noise.  


There were moments – such as this one – when the whole world narrowed down to a small space between them, and Scorpius could almost imagine that he's with Al _together_ , more, further and deeper than closest friends.  


As if it was barely gossamer that separated him from those sweet lips...  


"Scor?" A gentle hand rubbing his arm was so... real. "Don't fall asleep like that, you have a bed at home, you know? Beds are known for being more comfortable than human legs. Come on."  


Scorpius sighed, fighting back the intrusive tears. His eyes prickled, and tightness filled his chest, leaving little room for breathing.  


This was not the first time Scorpius experienced this kind of breathing problems in the face of physical closeness with Albus. But they have never before reached such a troublesome calibre.  


It hurt. It physically hurt.  


How is one supposed to enjoy his blessings when they are also a curse?

* * *

"Scor, would you have a second?"  


As always happy to make the life of his favourite person a little better, with no hesitation did Scorpius tear away from his neat notes on the fascinating book he'd read two months ago, and announced full readiness.  


Only to burst in the next moment like a soap bubble that met face-to-face with a cactus, because the clarification of the request was:  


"See, after our last time, Vi wanted to 'go to the next level' and try anal sex, and... I panicked, a bit. Kind of. Because I have no idea how to do it, okay. And I don't want to make an idiot out of myself or hurt her. Are there any books on it? Stuff that, um... you would recommend, or something?"  


Relax, Scorpius, the dam is holding up, it's okay. Calm down. It's not the end of the world. No. Not at all. Taking into consideration his often-problematic directness, Albus is careful and attentive only towards those that he cares about the most, but this does not mean that he is _serious_ with his _Vi_. Sex doesn't have to mean anything either.  


Calm down.  


Scorpius bit his lip, fighting with a sudden flood of disappointment and despair.  


_Screw what you're feeling. Be an exemplary friend, pretend it doesn't bother you._  


"There probably are, but you would have to search for yourself. I'm not well versed on the topic", he replied cautiously, trying to loosen his throat and not think that Al _was having sex_ with a girl.  


The thought alone made him feel sick and burned him like the cruellest heartburn possible. And it was exorbitantly worse than the serious depression Scorpius fell into every morning when he had to look at the fucking morning kisses exchanged so sweetly between Albus and his _Vi_.  


"Oh? Seriously? You really haven't read anything about it? Come on, Scor. You read about the strangest of things!"  


Scorpius sighed, swallowing hard. It would probably be appropriate to finally open the door of this closet...  


"Not in the female category at least." He shrugged, returning to his beloved notes.  


"Oh. Okay. Heh. That explains a lot." _That_ was clearly tense laughter. ...Wait, how does that 'explain a lot'? _How_ much? Did Scorpius just unintentionally reveal more than he intended to? Oh shitshitshit… "So I guess... you won't want to help me... with girls?  


Scorpius sighed stealthily again, because, next to the relief, the unusual emptiness filled his lungs.  


"I doubt I could be useful in this matter. Sorry."  


"Right. It's okay. Frankly, I'm a little jealous of you; guys are more direct on the subject, huh?" He chuckled unnaturally.  


"Not necessarily," Scorpius replied, pretending to be writing the actual words instead of scribbling a mindless cover-up full of angry, twitching lines.  


_Please, go away._  


"So… Have your eyes on some lucky bloke?"  


_I think I'll just go to sleep. I won't write anything sensible today anyway._  
"Maybe."  


_Come on, Scorpius, Al is trying and you what?_  


But Al does not stagger under the weight of a hard case of unrequited love.  


"It's okay. You don't have to tell."

_You would rather I don't tell you._

"And you know, no one will ever come between us, okay? You'll always be my number one."

Scorpius almost sniffed at the sincere emotion – and surprise – that broke through the layers of ice that had enveloped his dejected heart.

"Come on. I never thought like that." It was an obvious, shameless denial of the facts, and Al apparently knew him well enough to decipher them (to a degree; there was rather little chance that he would understand the real reason behind Scorpius's foul mood, which had recently been attacking more and more frequently, like an insatiable vulture with a fast metabolism).

And then he pulled Scorpius in to himself, as he was prone to, forcing another sigh from his friend's already tired lungs.

It wasn't bad.

But it _could_ be better...

And this was the main reason – the only one, actually – not to crush on Albus: he was so close that the short distance that separated him from real union with Scorpius hurt the most, laughing in Scorpius' face every day. More and more loudly. Clearly. Cruelly.

And yet Scorpius still hoped, with childish naivety, that maybe the impossible only _seemed_ impossible.

Regardless of the situation, there was one candle in this darkness full of question marks: they were too close for anything to ever put a real distance between them. But on the other hand, people change, and who knows. Who knows what opportunities are there for Scorpius... and how many of his ardent hopes he will be forced to bury.

Maybe someday someone will really bring him out of the swamp of unrequited love. However, it will be problematic if Albus remains a part of his life after Hogwarts. Cold fog filled Scorpius at the thought of _not_ having his dearest friend in life. But how, poor him, is he supposed to fall out of love if he remembers every day what he could have but will never get?

Or maybe it will turn out that there is a reciprocity in Albus' feelings? And maybe someday, in a few years, it will grow like a fresh flower...

Naivety lays the fundaments for hope and one never really grows out of it. Scorpius has already come to terms with it. Kind of.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a translation of my "Powody by nie bujać się w Albusie Potterze". Hope you liked it!


End file.
